Crashed, p.23
Crashed, page 23
“Just stop it, Ellie,” Mari said in a sharp voice.
“I’m not doing anything,” Ellison said, pressing her hand to her chest. “I’m just pointing out that we’re in the same mess we always end up because of Isabel—”
“You sound mean.”
Isabel clapped a hand over her forehead at that pronouncement.
The twins both looked up.
At Mari’s smothered giggle, Isabel shot her youngest sister a look. Mari offered a small shrug.
Ellison looked disgruntled as she located the pretty little blonde sitting on the top step with Storm leaning over the railing just a few feet away. Both girls were looking at Ellison with the same interest one might study a bug under a microscope.
“Yeah, well, you look short,” Ellison finally said before looking back at Isabel. “Your foster kids are still here? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You shouldn’t cuss in front of me,” Brooklyn piped up.
Ellison whipped her head around, the short, choppy locks of her hair flying around her face as she looked back at Brooklyn in astonishment. “Noted, pipsqueak!”
“And you shouldn’t call me names.”
Storm covered her mouth with her hand, but not before all of them caught sight of the smile dancing on her lips.
“Brooklyn, please go to your room,” Isabel said, not bothering to hide her smile.
“But I wanted to ask you something!”
“Okay.” Isabel folded her arms over her chest. “Ask, then go.”
Brooklyn frowned. “Well, now I can’t remember.”
“When you do, come and ask me. Until then ... ”
Brooklyn stood up, accepting the hand Storm offered. But before she turned to go, she gave Ellison one final look. “You do look mean. And I won’t always be short.”
“She’s got you there, Ellie,” Mari said.
“Why are your foster kids still here?” Ellison hissed.
“Because things just started happening,” Isabel retorted. “And contrary to what you think, it’s not as easy as just throwing them in a mailbox with return-to-sender marked on their foreheads. They are people who deserve to be handled with some level of care!”
“And what if Beresford shows up on the doorstep tonight?” Ellison half-shouted.
“That’s his name?”
Isabel groaned and lasered her sister—and her overly large mouth—with a quelling look. Walking over to the steps, she sank down and looked over to see Jacob and Aaron both standing in the door to the library. “How long have you two been in there?”
Aaron and Jacob exchanged a look, then shrugged. “An hour, maybe?”
“Without killing each other?”
“I can deal with him when he’s not being a narrow-minded jerk,” Aaron said.
Jacob flipped the skinnier kid off. “We were just looking some stuff up. You said this guy’s name was Beresford?”
Instead of answering them, Isabel turned a narrow glare on her sister. “Gee, motormouth. Thanks.”
Ellison opened her mouth, then snapped it closed.
At that moment, Rye stepped through the door of the kitchen and took a look around. Ace had been there to greet the twins when their bodyguard detail had escorted them inside, so neither of the twins had met the tall, lean male currently approaching Isabel.
“Ma’am.” He nodded at her, then glanced at the twins before looking at the two foster kids. “I need a word.”
Ellison’s entire demeanor changed.
Isabel rolled her eyes heavenward as she dragged herself off the bottom steps. Looking at the boys, she said, “Zip it. You don’t repeat a word. You understand?”
“Absolutely,” Jacob said soberly.
“No problem.” Aaron gave her a big-eyed, earnest look.
And she had no doubt that Aaron would be telling Storm exactly what had happened.
“You two understand this information is the kind that gets people hurt, right?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them.
“What information?” Rye asked, voice flat.
“One of my sisters let a name slip,” Isabel said in disgust.
The security specialist slanted a look at the twins, the lines bracketing his mouth deepening slightly. But he said nothing to them. Instead, he approached Aaron and Jacob.
“In a few years, you’re going to be men. Here’s your chance to show you’re already on the road. You found out something you shouldn’t know,” he said in a cool, implacable voice. “You react the way responsible grown-ups would—by keeping it to yourself. We don’t want people ending up hurt because you let that information slip to the wrong people, right? You’re going to show me you’ll be adults about this, understand?”
Both of them had gone rigid, staring at Rye without blinking.
He had that same way of commanding attention that Travis did.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“And since we don’t know who the wrong people are, we assume everybody is the wrong people. Right?”
“Yes, sir!”
He held their gazes another long, pregnant moment, then nodded. “Go to your rooms, please. I need to talk to Bella.”
They bolted and Rye turned, pinned a look on the twins. “Which one of you was foolish enough to say a fucking name in a house full of kids?”
Mari jerked up her hand and pointed at her twin, eyes wide.
Ellison gaped at the woman next to her.
Mari held up her hands. “I’m not going down for this. Besides, I know better!”
Isabel stared at her sisters as if she didn’t even recognize them. After a few seconds, she started to laugh. “Good for you, Mari! Good for you!”
Ellison, still looking disgusted, threw her hands up.
“If you would have had them sent elsewhere, none of this would have happened!”
“As of yet, we haven’t determined what the safest course of action would be for those kids,” Rye said, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Ellison a baleful look. “But we do know that our target already knows your sister has at least a child here, that he knows she is here, and we know she’s known around here as well. It stands to reason he may well already know about those kids. Sending them off to someplace where they might not be protected isn’t going to be a smart move, now is it?”
Ellison opened her mouth, then snapped it closed with an audible click.
“I think I want to go back to my condo,” she announced.
Rye smiled. “Too late, sweetheart. You’re here and you’re staying here where we can watch you.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she said in a pithy voice before storming past him, down the hall to the two spare bedrooms on the first floor Isabel always kept made up for her sisters—they weren’t ever used by any of the foster kids so the rooms were ready should the twins ever drop in, which never happened. But Ellison had no trouble finding her room. She went in, slammed the door, and a minute later, music started blasting.
Mari came and sat by Isabel, taking her hand.
“She’s in a cheery mood,” Isabel said glumly.
“The guy she’s been seeing dumped her.” Mari rested her head on Isabel’s shoulder. “I told her it would happen. He’s not somebody you can trust with small secrets, much less big ones, but she didn’t listen to me.”
Taking her baby sister’s hand, Isabel twined their fingers. “Is that why she insisted on coming? Or is she here to keep an eye on you?”
“I’m fine,” Mari said with a huff. “I’m not nineteen and breakable anymore. I told her if she wanted to stay in Boston with a team of bodyguards, I’d be okay here. But she insisted on coming to watch out for me.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to be alone.”
Mari rubbed her cheek against Isabelle’s shoulder again, then softly murmured, “Maybe.”
Rye caught her eye and Isabel focused on him.
“What did you need?”
He braced his back against the door and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“Well, some of it, I already mentioned ... that information about your foster kids. I’ve been talking with Miles and he’s of a mind that they’d probably be safest maybe just crashing in a hotel for a few days to ride this out, putting a couple of teams on them to watch over them.”
Isabel groaned. “Brooklyn in a hotel? She’d drive everybody else crazy.”
“She’s the itty-bitty one, right?”
“Not the baby, no.”
“Nah, that mouthy little blonde—a little wild cat.” Rye grinned and the expression changed his entire face.
Isabel wasn’t ashamed to say her heart skipped a beat or two. He was probably one of the prettiest damn men she’d ever seen in her life.
The door to Ellison’s room opened—she knew by the abrupt change in the music. It was louder, no longer so muffled.
Rising, Isabel shifted and she saw Ellison swing around the railing of the stairs just as she heard Brooklyn calling her name out.
“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” Ellison said. “I’ve had a rough few weeks and I don’t need to be taking them out on you. I’m sorry—”
“—Bella, I remembered my question!”
Brooklyn crashed into her and wrapped her arms around her leg.
Ellison sighed and crossed her arms but made a go-ahead gesture toward Brooklyn.
Looking at the little girl, Isabel asked, “What was your question?”
“When is Mr. Travis coming back?”
Fuck.
Both Mari and Ellison went tense.
“Ah, I’m not sure, sweetie, but I’ll let you know once I have a better idea,” Isabel said, managing a neutral voice ... somehow. “Hey, why don’t you take this up to Storm and have her order pizza ... double, no ... tell her to triple my normal order. The regular place.”
She fumbled her debit card out and pushed it into Brooklyn’s hand, hoping the smile on her face didn’t falter.
Fortunately, Brooklyn was so excited by the idea of pizza that she didn’t notice anything.
“Remember, tell her to triple the order,” she called up as Brooklyn pounded up the stairs, shouting for Storm.
“Judging by how eager you were to get the kid out of here, I don’t think we have to ask if it’s a coincidence that there’s a guy named Travis involved,” Ellison said, her voice tight.
Mari came off the steps, eying Isabel warily, although she said nothing.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Izzie,” Ellison said, falling back on the old childhood nickname. “Tell me you haven’t hooked back up with somebody who fucked you up like he did.”
Chapter 26
“I don’t believe it!”
Travis let his father haul him in a hard hug and he closed his eyes as he gripped the older man tight to him, fighting the rush of emotion that had his chest going squeezing on him. The air in the room didn’t seem adequate, but Travis knew it was just him, just in his head and that it was a mix of relief and trepidation, all over the talk they were about to have.
Just as his father released him to step back, he heard a soft, feminine cry of surprise and he stepped away, caught sight of his mother.
Denise Barnes was five ten, all curves and softness, and she rushed toward him with her arms outstretched while tears flooded the blue-green eyes she’d passed down to three of her boys.
Travis bent over her as he hugged her, aware of his father greeting Sebastien and Trey, because, of course, Sebastien had decided he needed to be on hand for this discussion.
Ressa and the boys had stayed back in Malibu with Marin, the drive to Santa Monica a short one. Ron Barnes was laughing and asking Trey about the kids, checking in on Marin via Sebastian.
But Travis wasn’t surprised when his mother drew away from him and cupped his face in her hands.
He closed his own hands around her wrists and held her eyes.
“What’s the matter, son?” she asked softly.
“We need to talk, Mom.”
She nodded and looked over her shoulder at her husband.
Ron, sensing her focus, lapsed into silence and met her gaze.
“Ron, our boys need to talk to us. Why don’t you pour us all some drinks?”
It was early in the day for whiskey but Travis didn’t turn it down when his father tipped the bottle in his direction after they’d settled in the family room. Some conversations just went down a little easier with booze. And, if he was completely honest, he might admit he needed a little liquid courage when it came to telling his mother the truth about everything.
He’d introduced the bodyguards as associates for the time being, but he’d seen the appraising looks both of his parents had given them and knew they weren’t fooled. A couple of times, Zach and Sebastien had both dealt with crazy stalker types, so this wasn’t the first time Ron and Denise had needed bodyguard detail.
One of the men who would be staying with his parents had stepped into the family room already and was finished going over it with a scanner just as Travis had entered, giving a brief nod to let him know the room was safe.
That done, he decided to rewind things farther back with them, because maybe then, they’d understand better, especially his mom.
“Do you remember that girl you thought I liked back in Cape Cod?”
Ron looked a little confused, but Travis wasn’t surprised when Denise inclined her head. “Isabel Steele.”
He didn’t ask how his mom knew her name. Isabel had mentioned that she felt like Denise Barnes had seen straight through to the inside of her skull and sometimes, Travis felt like she could as well.
“Yes.”
Denise’s hands clenched around the glass of whiskey Ron had just poured her. “This can’t be about her father ... he died in prison several years ago.”
“I need one of you to bring me up to speed,” Ron said quietly. “I don’t remember every last detail like you do, baby.”
Denise reached over and took his hand. “You’ll remember her. It’s the pretty girl we ran into outside the Lobster Shack in Cape Dennis, dear. Her father was the one you followed to his car.”
“Oh, that dickhead.” He lifted his drink, then lowered it and looked at Denise. “What do you mean he died in prison?” His eyes flew to Travis. “Please tell me he didn’t hurt that girl of his.”
“He did, although that’s not why he ended up in prison.”
Denise’s eyes narrowed slightly, speculation beginning to glimmer there.
Travis swallowed and took a sip of his whiskey, letting it burn a path down his throat. “Her father, Wilson Steele, was a US district attorney, Dad. And he was involved in human trafficking rings.”
Both Trey and Sebastien were watching him now, completely silent. He hadn’t told them this much detail. He’d texted Miles on the drive over, told him he had to give his parents a bit more detail because once his mother and father saw Isabel, they’d know ... and if he had his way about, they would see her, because he wasn’t letting her go again.
Miles had told him to use his best judgment.
That was what he was going to do. With that in mind, Travis began to talk.
As he detailed some of what had brought him and Isabel together, what had ended them, and what had put Wilson Steele in prison, his mother, alone, didn’t look surprised.
“Who I’m with doesn’t concern you, Ellie,” Isabel said. “It’s my business.”
“Do you not remember how you were after he disappeared?” Ellison glared at her, disgust stamped on her face. “You were a ghost. It was like you stopped living! And he just disappeared, no explanation. And how the fuck did he even find you, anyway?”
“It wasn’t as simple as him just disappearing,” Isabel bit off. Anger surged up inside and she didn’t try to fight it. But it wasn’t directed at Travis, or at herself, as it so often was. Even though she knew she hadn’t been to blame, that lingering guilt had haunted her for so long, so, so long, until it had almost poisoned her. “Dad had shoved his meaty paws in there, too. For the record, there are things you don’t know about me and him—like how Dad knew about me and Travis, knew all about us, knew we were planning on taking off and getting married, all of it. That was why he was so set on getting me hooked up with one of his cronies. And I wouldn’t take the bait, so he just turned me into bait.”
“What are you saying, Izzie?” Mari asked softly. There was a tremor to her words.
But when Isabel looked at Mari, the baby, the one both she and Ellison had tried so hard to protect, she saw a quiet determination. Taking Mari’s hand in hers, she used her free one to brush Mari’s hair back. The dark, heavy curls fell right back into Mari’s face.
“That’s why he set me up with Stephen Beresford, Mari. Even knowing ... ” Isabel swallowed, because it was still hard to accept it, even after all this time. “Even knowing what Stephen would do, Dad didn’t care. He was fucking okay with it because he was convinced Stephen would get me in line.”
Mari closed her eyes, her hand spasming on Isabel’s.
“Are you serious?” Ellison demanded.
She looked at her other sister. “Can you really be surprised?”
Ellison spun away, shoving her hands into her hair and jerking at the choppy strands. Harsh bursts of hair escaped her, followed by a sharp, strangled scream.
“That’s enough.”
All three women jumped.
Ellison jerked her head up to gape at the tall man who’d come to a stop in front of her.
Isabel started to ask Rye to give them a few minutes, but Ellison slammed her hands into his chest. “Excuse me, but this is none of your fucking business.”
“No, ma’am, it’s not,” he said agreeably. “Although I’d point out that your sister is a grown woman and her relationships are none of your fucking business ... pardon my language, ma’am. However, one thing that is my business is the safety and security of everybody in this house. That includes those kids. You’re two steps away from flipping your top, which will upset them. Now, Ms. Jensen.” He gave her an imminently reasonable smile as he addressed her by her altered name. “Can you really tell me those kids will feel safe and secure if you’re down here screaming and shouting? Will that make my job easier? Will I be able to keep everybody calm and maintain control should our target call in the next five minutes if you’re screaming and shouting?”
